


Handle with Care

by yujacheong



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Banter, Fade to Black, Humor, M/M, Mission Related, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:49:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24634840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yujacheong/pseuds/yujacheong
Summary: Obi-Wan and Hondo find themselves trapped a cargo hold with some odd crates marked, HANDLE WITH CARE.“Um, is it in one of those crates?”“What? No, don’t be silly. You Jedi, all brawn and no brain.” Hondo shook his head and chuckled. “It’s in the floor underneath the crates.”Obi-Wan’s headache returned with a vengeance. He knew what was coming next.“Help me move them, Obi-Wan?” said Hondo plaintively.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Hondo Ohnaka
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50
Collections: Heat Fic Summer 2020





	Handle with Care

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bright_Elen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bright_Elen/gifts).



Far be it for Obi-Wan Kenobi to state the obvious, but… “This is a cargo hold,” said Obi-Wan, stating the obvious.

“Have we been followed?” Hondo Ohnaka was contrary by nature, and on this occasion, he had replied to Obi-Wan’s statement of the obvious with a question.

Obi-Wan checked the corridor; it was clear, and he did not sense the immediate approach of any beings with hostile intentions through the Force. “It does not appear so,” he said.

“Good, good. Do me a favor, eh, Obi-Wan? Make sure they can’t get through the door.”

“But if I…we’ll be trapped in here.” He was stating the obvious – again.

“Details, details, my Jedi friend! Now, if I’m recalling the layout correctly, it ought to be…right…over…”

Obi-Wan watched Hondo poke about in a darkened, disused corner of the cargo hold for a moment before returning his attention to the door. He hit the controls with the heel of his palm, and the door slid shut. It was a blast door, made of half-meter-thick durasteel, and it was designed to withstand even the vacuum of space without buckling. It would certainly withstand hours, if not days, of heavy blaster fire. Unfortunately, it would also open right up with a press of a button on the corridor side.

Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Obi-Wan decided that there was nothing else for it. He ignited his lightsaber and stabbed the blade through the door mechanism, which sparked and smoked obligingly as it was put out of commission for the foreseeable future.

“Ah…hmm. It’s not here,” said Hondo, scuffing at the floor with the heel of his boot and rubbing the back of his neck apologetically. “How strange – I would have sworn…!”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He would swear he could feel a headache coming on. How, he wondered, had what was supposed to have been a straightforward resupply mission ended up like this?

He knew the answer to his question, of course. The mission had been to run critical food and medical supplies to resistance fighters loyal to the Republic who were trapped behind enemy lines, and they’d needed a likely cover story and a cargo ship not affiliated with the Republic to make it past a Separatist blockade. It’d ended up like this because Hondo Ohnaka had offered his assistance (or maybe that ought to have been his “assistance”) on reasonable monetary terms, and Obi-Wan, in an abundance of misplaced optimism, had accepted. They were using one of Hondo’s ships, and the drop-off had gone entirely according to plan. On the return journey, however, the ship had been boarded and commandeered by a rival pirate gang. Hondo’s men had been taken prisoner; Obi-Wan and Hondo himself were on the run.

Or, rather, they had been. They definitely weren’t running anymore. As a matter of fact, they seemed to have hit a literal dead end, and nobody in the GAR even knew they were in any trouble. If only they could have –

Suddenly, Hondo snapped his fingers. “Ha! My mistake! The emergency comm unit isn’t over here; it’s over _there_!”

Obi-Wan blinked to clear the pounding in his temples and followed the direction Hondo was indicating. He didn’t see any comm unit. All he saw were five huge shipping crates stacked one on top of the other and stamped, HANDLE WITH CARE. He asked what seemed like the reasonable question: “Um, is it in one of those crates?”

“What? No, don’t be silly. You Jedi, all brawn and no brain.” Hondo shook his head and chuckled. “It’s in the floor underneath the crates.”

Obi-Wan’s headache returned with a vengeance. He knew what was coming next.

“Help me move them, Obi-Wan?” said Hondo plaintively.

Even with two pairs of hands, moving the crates was hard work. They were back-breakingly heavy. And the work was made all the harder by Hondo’s repeated insistence that they be handled with the most extreme care.

“What…uhhh…is _in_ these things?” huffed Obi-Wan. This was the last of the five crates. By the Force, at _last_.

“Top secret!” replied Hondo between wheezing gasps of air. “I promised that Felucian botanist – OOF!”

Obi-Wan wasn’t certain what had happened, but as best he could tell, Hondo had tripped over his own feet. The crate slipped out of their hands, crashed heavily onto the floor, and cracked open, releasing its contents, which seemed to be some sort of sparkly pink powder, into the air in big, sparkly pink puffs that hit both Obi-Wan and Hondo full in the face.

Obi-Wan sneezed violently. “What _is_ that stuff?”

Hondo didn’t reply. He was already knelt on the floor, lifting the sheet of deck plating which had been most recently underneath the HANDLE WITH CARE crates. As he’d promised, there was a comm unit under the floor, and with a reluctant beep and a squeal of cooling fans, it came online. “I presume you have friends who can effectuate our rescue,” he said, scooching back to give Obi-Wan room to access the unit.

Obi-Wan sneezed again. He felt…strange. Really strange. Tingly, lightheaded. This wasn’t the stress headache of earlier. This was different. In fact – he squirmed inside of his robes. He felt itchy. Very itchy. The sensation made him want to reach into his trousers and – but no. No, he had a job to do. He forced himself to attend to the comm unit, tuning it to a particular protected frequency known only to him and one other. “Anakin? Anakin, are you there?”

“Yeah?” Thank goodness. It was Anakin’s voice. “What do you want, old man?”

“Anakin, can you get a fix on my current location? I’m afraid we’re in a bit of a tight spot and need – ”

A groan, low and guttural. Obi-Wan paused mid-sentence and looked in the direction of the sound. It was Hondo, and oh, dear, what he was doing to himself…! He had fallen onto his side, and his hips were undulating, and oh, dear, Hondo was…

“Obi…Wan…” he moaned.

Obi-Wan swallowed. A hot tingling swept like an electric current across the surface of his skin. The itching was becoming absolutely unbearable. Unable to resist any longer, he kept his eyes fixed on Hondo as he reached into his trousers to scratch that itch and scratch it _hard_.

*

“So you, uh…you heard everything?” asked Obi-Wan weakly after he’d been returned safely to the _Resolute_.

Anakin just glowered.


End file.
